Lítost
by happyGilbird
Summary: Lítost, (n.) regret and remorse and repentance; a state of agony and torment; or sorrow said to be "created by the sudden sight of one's own misery." Tom Riddle is an orphan who has strange powers that set him apart from the rest. Follows Tom Riddle throughout school years. Will be a very long fic.
1. Greng-Jai

Greng-jai

**_Wool's Orphanage _**

**_London, England_**

**_31 December, 1926_**

_"I hope he looks like his papa," Merope Gaunt moaned as the nursemaids around her tended to her. The woman's skin was an even paler pallor than usual, not that the attendants would be aware of that. She was still chattering from the cold outside, knowing that it was still snowing as the bitter English wind whipped every which way. "-And he is to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for my father," she broke off, gasping in pain, her hazy eyes looking outside to the silent snow that was beginning to fall. Before she needed to push again, she continued, "Hi- his surname is going to be Riddle." _

_Merope Gaunt was dead soon after, and the cries of her baby boy woke up the inhabitants of the orphanage that the wails of his birthing mother hadn't._

**_1932_**

"TOM!" Martha screamed, running toward the boy with her long blond hair whipping out behind her. "You know what we've said about climbing! Let's see what damage you've done, then," she sighed, kneeling next to the boy and examining him. He always got into trouble on the orphanage's weekly outings. Or, as of late, the outings they took once in a fortnight. London was still rife with politics lately, and it often wasn't safe for the children.

"I'm fine, Martha. Get off me," the boy complained, pushing her away, and brushing himself off. That left the young woman gaping at him, and then looking back up at where he had fallen from. He took her surprise as an escape, and hid near the the edge of the park until they were allowed back to the orphanage. It was either the tree or the roof. And he could hardly get at the roof… Aside from once, and he still wasn't sure how that had happened. The other kids had been chasing him, and he had just suddenly been there. Getting down had been no fun process either, and he'd been punished with no dinner that night.

Tom Riddle had nowhere else to go to avoid the names being thrown at him, and the kicks and the jibes. The tree was what worked for him, even if they could still throw rocks at him. There were usually enough branches to cover him. Tom supposed that it would be too much to ask of his 'caretakers' if he were to mention that he'd like the other children to stop trying to bruise him every time they came into contact. He would just have to bide his time until he was able to teach them a lesson. As it turned out, he wouldn't have to wait long.

The next outing that the orphanage took was to a lake, where Tom was able to finally do it. He'd figured out how to make bad things happen to people that were mean to him. Once he'd lured Amy and Dennis away, he'd been able to do it. He'd made the shadows dance, and the winds howl. The creatures in cave even came out to play. Animals that should never see the light of day. Tom wasn't entirely sure that they'd even existed before he'd called them forth. In the distance, he could hear Mrs. Cole calling, and Tom sneered, forcing the two he'd brought back here to get up and move out. Angry for being interrupted, he thought angry, _violent_, thoughts at the two causing them to stumble, and open their mouths in wide, silent screams.

Tom made himself scarce, and banished all thought toward the two, hoping to make them think that they had simply been having the worst nightmare of their lives. He stuck around only to listen to Mrs. Cole confront the two of them, and their shaky replies before he went back to meet up with the others, a smug feeling settling into his skin. Maybe life at the orphanage wouldn't be so bad now that they understood what he was capable of.

Mrs. Cole was carrying a shaking Amy, and holding a firm grip on Dennis' shoulder, steering him this way and that when the three made it back to their picnic area. She was giving Tom a frightened look while he was careful to look concerned, and of course, innocent.

While Martha and Mrs. Cole debated whether or not to get a doctor to look at the two of them, the rest of the children were gathering around, Tom, after a suppressed eye roll, did as well. In his book the sooner they got home the better, and he tried to force that thought into Martha's head. Surprisingly, it worked, and Tom jumped a bit, surprised. Well, maybe she had just been thinking that already. She did seem smarter than Mrs. Cole after all.

Over the next few years, Tom would make sure that they didn't forget his power. The one thing that he had that they did not. When Billy Stubbs had given him a bloody nose, Tom had hung his rabbit from the rafters that night. It wasn't until the next day that anyone noticed, mostly because the now decomposing rabbit had started to stink from the summer heat.

**1938**

Even better, when Billy Stubbs and Eric Whalley had decide that they'd try to ruin his things, he'd given them horrible boils, and a rash. In a strange way, Tom almost hoped that they would die from it. He might actually attempt it if he didn't think that Martha and Mrs. Cole wouldn't try to have him exorcised.

Only a week after Billy and Eric's diagnosis and just after his birthday, there was a rapt knock on Tom's door. Shit, had they figured out that it was him somehow? He composed himself, shutting his book, leaving the notes hang out the side a bit, and looked up to the ever-present Mrs. Cole, and the old man dressed in strange out-of-style clothing, and a long beard. He had surprisingly deep eyes, and an interesting feeling about him. He didn't feel quite as boring as the rest of the people in the orphanage, but he couldn't quite place his figure on it. Regardless, he had his suspicions about the man.

"Tom, you have a visitor," Mrs. Cole supplied, unhelpfully. He didn't let his irritation show, and his eyes flicked over to the man.

"How do you do, Tom?" he asked, stepping into the room without being invited, just like everyone else in this damned building. Mrs. Cole turned down the hallway after excusing herself, leaving the man alone with Tom. He did not reply right away, only looking out the window past his row of seven perfectly cleaned rocks. They'd all hit the back of his head at one point or another in his life, and he didn't like the thought of them mingling with the other rocks, only waiting to be thrown again. There was a picture of the lake wedged up between the pipe for the heater and his wall. After the 'pleasantries,' Tom resigned himself back to his chair, facing away from the man introduced as Dumbledore.

"Don't." The man paused, and continued into the room, taking the liberty to even sit down on the edge of Tom's small thin bed. Tom grit his teeth, and turned in his desk a bit further, looking at the man more evenly, with a cold calculating look. "You're the doctor, aren't you?" he inquired, still eyeing him.

"No. I am a professor," he replied, not looking surprised, or anything, really. The man looked cool, and blank. Professional.

"I don't believe you. She wants me looked at. They think I'm… Diffferent." As Tom spoke, he watched as the old man nodded slightly at a few things.

"Well, perhaps they're right," he replied in a murmur, setting Tom off. He knows how these doctor visits go. They have a chat with a Mad boy or girl and then they ship them off to the asylum, and only God knows what goes on there for it to be worse than this wretched, grim, old place.

"I'm not mad," he growled, scowling at the persistent man.

"Hogwarts is not a place for mad people. Hogwarts is a school. School of magic." I frowned for a moment, taken aback. Magic? Was this a trick? Of course it was, Magic wasn't real, and after all it was only him that could do strange things. Right?

"You can do things, can't you Tom? Things that other children can't?" How did he…

"I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me. I can make them hurt -if I want to... Who are you?" he asked, in a defensive manner, squinting his eyes at the man.

"Well I'm like you, Tom. I'm 'different'," Dumbledore replied, looking around a bit shiftily.

In an extremely obvious manner, Tom pushed back with, "Prove it." Instead of answering with words, Tom's dresser simply caught fire. Instead of jerking to their feet like a normal child, worrying about the things inside of the cabinet, Tom didn't have anything of value in there. Nothing that he couldn't replace, anyway.

After Dumbledore finally murmured, "I think there's something in your wardrobe trying to get out, Tom," Tom stood, and walked over to the burning wooden storage facility, and lifted the silvery box. Shutting the door closed with his… magic? The boy walked back over to his bed and sat the box down, pouring out the contents.

"Thievery is not tolerated at Hogwarts, Tom. At Hogwarts you'll not only be taught how to use magic, but how to control it. You understand me?" Tom did not like the Professor's tone of voice. Accusatory. Yeah, sure he'd stolen a few things, but he'd wanted them more than the other children. The other children had lots of things, but Room 27, Tom's room, was always more bare than the other children's. Sure some could attest that to being neat, but if you were looking well enough you'd notice that the room was damn near empty. He took things that the other children wouldn't miss, or that would hurt them. And he never kept the ones that would be noticed if they were gone. He didn't want to face Mrs. Cole's wrath. The headmaster muttered something about needing to get back, but Tom stood up, wanting to continue talking to the first person that he had something interesting in common with.

"I can talk to snakes, too," Tom informed in his calm voice, though he was desperate on the inside, wanting for the man to stay only a while longer. Tom got his wish as the old man paused from his rushing out of the room, before Tom lost his nerve, he continued, "They find me—whisper things. Is that normal for someone like me?" At the end there was a tinge of hope in Tom's eyes, but he quickly disguised it. How pathetic he was, hoping that perhaps everything about him could be explained. Sure, it was nice to have something different about you, something that made you better than others, but… He still wanted to belong somehow. When Albus Dumbledore looked back at Tom, he saw the flare of wonder, and the remaining hope being squashed as he shook his head slightly.

"No, Tom. But it is not… Unheard of," he promised, nodding toward the child before leaving as abruptly as he'd arrived. Tom sank back onto his bed, and leaned back into the rough woolen blankets. He hung off the professor's words, smiling to himself. He couldn't wait to go to Hogwarts and get away from this hovel. Hoping that the attendants wouldn't come bother him tonight, he wrapped himself up in his diary, writing about what he thought Hogwarts would be like, and what he hoped to do when he got there.

* * *

Author's note:

GRENG-JAI: The feeling you get when you don't want to ask someone to do something for you because it would be a pain for them.

Let me know how I did, and if you have and feedback I would love to heat it. I'll have another chapter up some time soon, hopefully.


	2. Namji

Namji

**July 1938**

When a wizard showed up to take Tom to a place called Diagon Alley, he dropped everything and was instantly ready to go. Mrs. Cole gave the man some money she'd set aside for student's schooling, and sent them on their way. The wizard looked annoyed at the money, which prompted Tom to ask, "What is it?"

"I'm just unused to muggle money, is all," the man assured. "I'm Professor Herbert Beery, Tom. It's good to meet you."

"Muggle, sir?" he asked, looking up at the man with a confused face.

"Ah, right, I always forget. Sorry, Tom. A muggle is a person who doesn't have magic. And if an object is used by only muggles, or mainly muggles, it's adapted. Therefore, muggle money. We use a very different system. I'll have to get the goblins to exchange this…" Wide-eyed at the mention of goblins, Tom grinned and followed after the strange man. He supposed that wizards must dress differently, after seeing two of them wearing very strange and out of date clothing.

Once they'd gotten to a pub called the Leaky Caldron, Tom was brought to the back where Professor Beery waved a stick—wand around. The brick wall moved away, shifting brick by brick until the two of them were stood in a very different world. It was busy and filled with children just like him looking for their school supplies. Tom held up his letter, and looked to the Professor who was smirking down at him. "After a quick stop at Gringott's we'll head out for your supplies. Ah, before you ask, Gringott's is a bank. It's run by goblins—strange little creatures. Don't want to get on their bad side, I assure you." The two of them continued down the busy alley, and Tom was able to hold in his urge to run off and explore, sticking by Beery.

Once inside the rather dusty bank, Tom was alarmed to see the creatures he'd known to be goblins. Honestly, he hadn't really known what to expect. They were short vicious looking things with pointed teeth. Tom understood now what the Professor had meant. After explaining the intricacies of the magic currency, Tom nodded and looked at the top of his school list, "A uniform, sir?" he prompted, reading what would be required.

"Yes, and I know just the place," he affirmed after withdrawing some money from the scholarship fund to add to Tom's current funds. The Professor led the way toward a shop called Madam Malkin's. She had quite the way with clothes. "Alright, Tom, they'll just have you stand up on the platform while they measure you. I'm going to go off and get your required books while I wait. I'll be back before you're done," he promised, smiling warmly at the child, and introducing him to one of the attendants.

"Is it your first year, dearie?" the thin, angular woman asked, using her wand to float around a measuring tape.

"Yes, ma'am," Tom affirmed, feeling slightly violated as the tape measure slipped all over him. Feeling thoroughly ruffled, he stepped off of the platform and brushed himself off. He was told to wait with the others while she bustled off and got the clothes sewn together.

"You going to Hogwarts, too?" a girl asked, seated in what must be the designated waiting area. She was a pale girl, and had long dark hair that made her seem even more white. She scooted slightly on the bench, indicating for him to sit down.

"Yes, it's my first year. Tom Riddle," he introduced himself, holding out a hand to shake.

She took it daintily, and smiled, "Artemus Prince. It's my first year as well." After dropping the hand, she looked fondly out the window. "Have you gotten your wand yet?" At the shake of Tom's head, Artemus looked a bit contemplative. "That's too bad. I was wondering if you could tell me how they go about testing for wands. I would rather like to know what I was doing when I go in there."

"Here I was thinking that you'd just walk in there and pick one off a shelf. I wasn't aware that there was testing involved," Tom admitted.

"Are you a muggle-born student?" she asked, seemingly curious. "Most wizards raised here already know things like that. Just like how you're tested to get into houses at Hogwarts."

"Well, my mother was a wizard, but unfortunately I'm an orphan. I was raised in a muggle orphanage, and haven't had any contact with this world until just recently," he explained, looking down and wishing that he had been raised here instead of with the swine that Mrs. Cole called orphans.

"Ah, I see. You're a half-blood then," she explained, knowing that he wouldn't understand the terms. "I can explain bits about the wizarding world to you, if you like," she offered, still smiling warmly. Tom watched her carefully, looking to see if she had ulterior motives to trick him with. The other orphans had taught him to be cautious. Seeing none, he nodded slowly, allowing a small albeit genuine smile to cross his face.

"Yes, that would be nice. Could you start with the… Houses, you mentioned? At Hogwarts?" he asked, still interested in that. He did have a lot of questions.

"Of course. Now, the one I know most about is Slytherin, but I'll try to give a somewhat unbiased opinion of the others. Nearly everyone in my family has landed in Slytherin," Artemus began, and Tom liked the sound of it already. "The story is that there was once four founding members of Hogwarts, and they each had their own thoughts on who would make the best students. Their names were Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. Gryffindor thought that the brave and brash would be good students, Hufflepuff thought hard-working and loyal, Ravenclaw had the smart and knowledge-seeking, and finally Slytherin thought the best students had cunning and ambition.

"Right now, however, the more popular opinions of the houses goes something more like 'Hufflepuff is where people who can't be sorted into other houses go, Ravenclaws are no fun, Gryffindors are all idiots that don't think before they do anything, and Slytherins are all Dark and Evil Wizards.' My opinion? All hogwash," she finished, crossing her arms and huffing, causing a startled chuckle to come out of Tom.

Hearing her name called, Artemus looked a bit dejected. "Alright, well, I've got to go. Hopefully I'll see you on the Hogwarts express, if not then I guess I'll see you at Hogwarts," she smiled again, and gave him a quick pat on the shoulder before running off to the attendant who had her uniform all ready to go. Tom's name was called a few minutes later, and he was given his clothing in a bag that was much bigger on the inside. Surprised at the magical item, he masked it, and thanked the woman before walking outside to look for the professor. Professor Beery was already outside waiting for him as he exited.

"I've got your books ready to go," he informed, patting his pocket before standing up a bit straighter. "What we need next is a wand." He was brought to Ollivander's, where a young man was stood on a ladder organizing shelves. "Young Ollivander! It's good to see you," the Professor exclaimed, causing the man on the ladder to jump a bit, and look down at the cause of the noise.

"Ah, Professor. It's been a while since I was at Hogwarts, I didn't know if you would remember me," he grinned, sliding down the ladder. "Who have you got with you, sir?" he asked, "I didn't think you had children."

"Oh, no. This is Tom Riddle, I was just taking him around for the day to get him used to Diagon Alley," the Professor explained.

"It's good to meet you, Tom," Ollivander smiled, "I'm sure you need a wand, then. Hold out your wand-arm, then."

"Er - well, I'm right-handed," said Tom, hoping that was the same thing.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Tom from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Riddle. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Tom suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring his left earlobe, was doing this on its own—just like Madame Malkin's had. They must be enchanted somehow… Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes. "That will do," Ollivander said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Riddle. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Tom took the wand and, feeling more than a bit foolish, waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try -" Tom tried - but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander. "No, no -here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out." Tom tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for, and was honestly getting impatient with the man. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become. It seemed that he liked the challenge.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now - - yes, why not - unusual combination - Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well…" Trailing off, the man handed over the wand and Tom felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls.

"I was beginning to wonder whether or not you would have to make an entirely new wand, Mr. Ollivander," Beery jibed from the entrance, looking at the unstable pile of wands on the spindly chair.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Riddle." The boy smiled, and he looked at the wand carefully.

"I hope so, sir," he agreed, smiling at the wand maker before turning to his professor, and getting shooed out of the store by the man.

**September 1****st****, 1938 **

After observing a few obviously magical students make their way through the platform onto 9 and 3/4, Tom sighed and figured that he may as well have a go of it. He gripped his luggage tightly, and walked briskly toward the wall, hoping that he wouldn't smack into it, and fall down. Gasping when he appeared in another place all together, Tom looked around, spotting the train, and blinking. Oh, magic was fantastic. He hurried over to where the students, and a few professors he suspected, were loading their bags. After that, he quickly found an empty room in the trolley, and sat down on the comfortable seating in there. He swung his bag up onto the seat next to him, and looked out the window, wondering just where Hogwarts was. Was it in an actual place, or was magic so great that they would be transported somewhere strange—like the moon, or something. That would be truly fantastic. Maybe under the ocean!

As the boy fantasized, there was a quick knock at the door, and a familiar youthful face peered inside with an easy grin. Tom smiled back when he saw Artemus, and inclined his head for her to sit across from him. "I was wondering when I'd see you again. You know, it's been quite irritating to have to spend all my time with muggles since I've learned I was magical. I have to hide what I know and it's bumming me out," Tom confided as she sat down. "And I've just been sitting around wanting to learn _more _but there is only so much that can be taken away from a book."

Artemus looked amused, and she plopped her carry on down next to her. "That's the most Ravenclaw thing I've ever heard. If you're not sorted there then I'll be surprised.

Tom scoffed, "It's hardly learning that I prize more than any other skill. I'm more brave or cunning than that. If I get put anywhere it'd probably be with Slytherin or Gryffindor. I don't do in-betweens."

Chuckling, she replied, "I guess not. But if you get sorted into Gryffindor then I'll have to hide our friendship and sneak around. I'm sure I'll be put into Slytherin, and Slytherin and Gryffindor has the absolute worst house rivalry. There's hardly any mingling." By the end she looked a bit disheartened. "But I don't think I have much to worry about. Can't really explain it, but you feel like a Slytherin."

Tom smiled softly. "Strange. Why do they separate the students into houses if it only divides them further?" he questioned, looking a bit stern. "It could alienate a child from their childhood friends, and that seems… counterproductive."

Artemus shrugged, and looked down seeming to be contemplating something. "Well, it's just strange, is all. I'm not sure why they do it. Sometimes it's like we function as four entirely separate schools, and other times they try to make us act like we're all in it together. We've even got different mascots than each other," she hummed, tapping her chin in puzzlement.

"Really? What are they? Raven for Ravenclaws…?" he thought, "Griffon for Gryffindor?"

"Well, you got one of them. Gryffindor is actually just a lion. Because represents bravery, right?" she clicked her tongue before continuing, "Hufflepuff is a badger, because they're loyal or work hard or something, I didn't really care so I didn't pay attention to it. And Slytherin is a snake because it represents being sly, and cunning, I guess."

Tom took this in and grinned, _interesting._ "That grin of yours is chilling maybe you would make a good Slytherin," she murmured in a nearly mockingly impressed tone. Looking at her, and knowing that he was hiding something was oddly gratifying. He decided that he would withhold the information about him being able to talk to snakes until he read up a bit more on the subject. He didn't want to be burned at the stake, or to have someone attempt to exorcise the demons from him again. Damn that Mrs. Cole. She didn't know anything about magic, though, so maybe in this world the skill was more accepted. He wasn't sure, however, so he would take the necessary precautions to avoid an untimely death at the hands of his peers.

"Right, well, perhaps I'll be in Slytherin, then. I have an… affinity for snakes," he chose his words carefully, and offered up a sly grin. She returned a raised eyebrow and glanced out the window. Ah, it looks like we'll be moving soon. They've packed all the luggage finally."

As if on cue, the two new friends saw two children looking to be about their age running toward the entrance to the train as a man was hollering for the last to board. Once the two were on the train, it took only a few moments until they started from the station. The two children that had run to the train only a few minutes ago were now at the door to Artemus and Tom's shared space. Artemus moved her luggage and pushed it underneath the bench next to Tom as he pushed his luggage underneath where he was sitting, opening up enough space for the two newcomers who had shouted, "Artemus!" when they'd seen her.

Both trying to talk over one another, the tall blond one with flashing white teeth, and deep grey eyes saying, "It's been _ages _we haven't seen you since—"

All the while, the shorter black haired, dark eyed one was making wild arm movements while sternly demanding, "Why haven't you owled? I sent you four letters—"

Artemus burst out laughing at their antics, and Tom was giving them an incredulous look. When the burst of laughter came, the two of them paused and in unison, complained, "Stop laughing!" and "What's so funny?" Which, of course, only made her laugh harder, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Giving up, the two of them made exasperated noises, and sat across from their laughing friend and her companion. Once she managed to compose herself, she wiped at her eyes, and looked at the two before glancing at Tom.

"Boys, this is Tom Riddle," she introduced, gesturing to Tom as he nodded curtly. The boys nodded back. "Tom, this is Tyrion Avery," she pointed to the blond who smiled, seemingly friendly enough, "And Corvus Rosier." After pointing to Corvus, the flailing black-haired boy, Artemus relaxed back into the bench and lifted up her feet. "Alright then. If you're sorted into Slytherin Tom, you'll have to deal with these two all the time. Be careful," she warned, wagging her finger at him.

"That does put a damper on things…" he hummed, deadpan while the others made noises of complaint.

"Or, maybe you won't. These two certainly complain like Gryffindors…" she trailed off. The two gasped, and looked as though they had a few things to say about that.

Tom chuckled and watched as the landscape zoomed by outside the train, hearing their eventual outburst of denials and accusations. They made things livelier, at the very least.

* * *

Author's note: Thank you for reading. If you have any interesting words, please send them to me! I enjoy them quite a bit if you couldn't already tell. I might make one into a chapter title if I get the chance. (I'm saving Backpfiefengesicht for when a Malfoy gets introduced.)

Namji: Sincere kindness without expecting anything in return.

Review! Tell me what I'm doing right, tell me what I'm doing wrong! Tell me what sucks, or what is boring, or what is awesome or exciting! Or don't, I don't really care. I'm probably going to write this either way.


	3. Gezelligheid

Gezelligheid

Once at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Tom, Artemus, Corvus, and Tyrion had been directed to the boats, which made Tom a bit wary. He'd never been on a boat before. With the calls of "No more than four to a boat!" Tom felt a bit relieved that they had just the right amount of people to take rather than having to leave someone behind. He knew that it would have had to be him that was left as he was the newest member to this friend group they had going on here. Even so, Tom managed not to let that upset him, and he continued into the boat with the other three children, the other two boys bickering with each other while Artemus and Tom made a snide remark or two from the back of the boat. Seeing a few kids in the boats ahead of them start pointing, Tom looked up to see what the fuss was about.

"Oh, look, boys! It's Hogwarts," Artemus enthused, pointing up to the castle. So this was Hogwarts? It seemed more like a royal palace than a school, and it was huge!

"I've never seen it at night before," Corvus commented, looking a bit awed.

"It's even more magical when the moon is up," Tyrion agreed, watching the boats come into dock, as they started up toward the castle. Tom remained silent in the approach to the castle, seeming to have a deadly peaceful grace as he glided forward with his new friends as if he knew where he was going. The other first years were all either just as enraptured with the vast castle as Tom was, or had broken through their trance and had begun whispering excitedly with one another.

The first wizard that Tom had knowingly met was there to greet them inside, and Tom offered up a tentative smile when the much older wizard met his eyes. They looked cold, and Tom dropped the smile and brought his brows together in a show of part frustration and part hurt before pulling on a complacent mask when Artemus caught up with him.

Dumbledore opened the doors to the castle, and Tom was immediately impressed by the building yet again. He'd expected there to be multiple floors in this area of the building, but it just seemed as though the ceiling went on forever. The hall was huge, and he had to forcibly hold his jaw shut before it would hit the floor. Incredible.

They followed Professor Dumbledore across the grand stone floor. Tom could hear that the rest of the school had already shown up, hearing the voices of hundreds of students echo into the hall they were in- but Professor Dumbledore showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. The new students crowded in, standing much closer together than they would usually have done, looking about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor Dumbledore. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Dumbledore looked at a few of the more scruffy students and, then at Tom sternly.

Seeing the looks, Artemus scoffed at his little speech, and the other two boys that Tom had come with looked a bit put off as well. "Did you see the way that he looked at us? I've never been so offended in my life! Honestly—" Tyrion was cut off as the doors opened to show the students that were already in the Great Hall.

"Now, form a line," Professor Dumbledore told the first years, "and follow me."

Tom quickly got into line behind an unfamiliar mop of shaggy black hair, with Artemus behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

The hall was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting.

These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor Dumbledore led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them.

The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the Hogwarts ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Tom looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. Tom heard Artemus whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside."

Tom was having a hard time believing it was a ceiling at all, and not just a massive skylight.

There were more students in there then Tom had originally thought, and as Dumbledore and Artemus had foretold there was four tables, each with a bit of room on the end for the new students to sit down. On the table adorned with green he saw a few small waves of encouragement to his new friends, along with other smiles and waves from other tables to the other students. Tom felt a bit strange about going into this without knowing anyone beforehand. He swallowed thickly, and stayed close to Artemus, Tyrion, and Corvus.

Professor Dumbledore silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool he put a patched and frayed, pointed wizard's hat. This hat was extremely dirty, and Mrs. Cole would have burned it before it got anywhere near the orphanage.

Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Tom thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing - noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffis are true And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Corvus whispered excitedly to seemingly himself. "I'll kill Malfoy, he was going on about vampires and trolls!"

Tom smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Tom didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him. Ugh, he tried to refocus himself on being with only students who had even spoken with him nicely.

Professor Dumbledore now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," he informed, looking at the list over his half-moon glasses. "Abbey, Jean!"

A carefully composed girl with a short bob of black hair stepped out from behind a few others. She looked a bit out of place- like she was just as new to this world as Tom was. Looking to Dumbledore, she took the hat and quickly put it on -the brim flopping over her eyes- before she sat down hurriedly. There was a pause before the hat burst out "SLYTHERIN!"

She took the hat off as the table with students in green badges began clapping, and went to sit in the designated first year area. As if they were off to a bad start, Dumbledore looked like he had recently sucked on a lemon with puckered lips. Once the hall died down, Dumbledore called out, "Abbott, Percival!"

Alphabetcial order, then. Tom had a while to breathe, and prepare himself. "HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Alderton, Arion!" Grouchy looking kid with great big glasses.

"RAVENCLAW!"

Twins were up next. Edward, and Patrick Auburn. The former, Edward, was sorted into Slytherin, and Patrick ended up in Hufflepuff. The table with red badges was beginning to look put out, and Tom assumed that it was because there hadn't been any Gryffindors called yet.

"Avery, Tyrion!" Tyrion jumped a little bit, but strode up there with confidance, and sat on the chair with the hat perched on his head. After quickly calling out Slytherin, the hat went still again, and Tyrion brushed off his hair.

Dumbledore seemed to be unsettled. Artemus murmured, "Looks like the Dumb Old Door is getting a bit outnumbered in these halls. He's the head of Gryffindor, you know." Ah, the house rivalry then. It's a bit absurd that a grown man would be upset, though. In fact, they got through Barnes, Black, Brown, Burke, Connoly, Crouch, Crowe, Dabney, Doe, and Honeysett before they got to Jackson, Alex who got sorted into Gryffindor. The red-badged house burst into long-overdue applause, and the young dark-skinned boy grinned as he jogged over to his house. As he was watching he noticed that the hat took different lengths to decide where to put someone. Sometimes it took nearly a minute, and others only seconds.

A sudden and horrible thought struck Tom, as is expected of horrible thoughts when someone is rather nervous. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor Dumbledore yanked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train?

There was another eleven names called off each child going to their house happily, and the numbers started to even out, and Tom was able to calm himself back down from that thought. There couldn't have been a mistake. "Prewett, Esther!" Dumbledore boomed.

A fire-red flame of hair bounced up to the chair and sat down with the hat flopping over her eyes. She grinned suddenly, and the hat called out, "SLYTHERIN!"

After she ran over to join her table, Artemus started looking even more nervous, and Tom patted her arm, knowing that she would be up soon if not next. Once the Hall calmed again, Dumbledore called, "Prince, Artemus!" Before her first name was even out of his mouth, she started walking up to the front of the chair, taking the hat, and placing it on her head. Almost immediately, the hat called out, "SLYTHERIN!" She smiled, and looked over to Corvus and Tom in encouragement, before sitting next to Lucretia Black, and Tyrion Avery.

"Riddle, Tom!" He froze, before turning back to Dumbledore, and walking up to sit in the chair himself. Taking a calming breath, he slipped the hat on and suddenly there was a small voice in his ear.

"Hmm… Difficult. You're befitting of several houses. Loyal to those who you believe worthy of it. Plenty of courage, too. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, goodness yes—and a nice thirst to prove yourself, too. Nothing interesting there, considering… But where to but you?"

Tom held the end of his sleeves, thinking to the hat that he wanted to be with his friends—in Slytherin.

"Slytherin, eh?" Asked the small voice. "Are you sure? Of course, you could be great there. It's all in your head, and Slytherin will help you ono the way to greatness, no doubt about that. Well, it seems I didn't need much convincing. If you're sure—better be SLYTHERIN!"

Tom heard the hat shout his house out to the whole hall, so he took the hat off, terribly relieved. Walking, composed, to the Slytherin table, where Artemus and Tyrion were clapping furiously. Grinning at them, he sat on the opposite side of the table of them.

He was too caught up with his friends that he hadn't realized that his table was clapping again until Corvus Rosier plopped down next to him. He looked up to the High Table where the staff sat and spotted Professor Beery, and the man gave him a small thumbs up and a wink before looking back over at the newer students. Dumbledore looked disgruntled again at four Slytherins in a row.

But after Shafiq, a new Hufflepuff broke their short streak. There wasn't any more seats available on the Slytherin Table, and they didn't get any more students. The rest of the houses filled up nicely, and there was ten new students in each house.

Once all the new students had been seated, Tom looked down at the empty golden plate in front of him, and realized how hungry he was. Breaking through Tom's thoughts the headmaster, Armando Dippet, stood up to welcome the new students, and announce the feast before sitting back down.

When Tom looked back to the table, it was filled with food. He'd never seen so many things to eat on one table. And so many different kinds of meats! There was a shortage of it in the muggle world, and perhaps this was why! Everything from meatloaf to pork and lamb chops to sausages was on this table.

He'd never been starved at the orphanage, but there were days where there wasn't enough food to go around. Tom took as much food as he could fit on his plate, and started joyfully. It was all delicious.

"Mmm. That looks good," a ghost, who had been introduced as The Bloody Baron, droned, gazing down at the first years' plates.

"I suppose you can't eat," Tom hummed, looking up at the Slytherin house ghost.

The ghost shook his head sadly, and continued down the table toward the opposite end.

"How did he get covered in blood?" Tom asked Corvus, who was sitting next to him still, eating some potatoes.

"Apparently, no one knows. I'm sure that if you really wanted to know you could look up his death somewhere," he offered, shrugging to himself mostly. "I guess you could just ask him too, though I don't know how he'd respond. We all just assume it has to do with his rather violent temper."

Tom nodded thoughtfully, looking down at the ghost before turning his attentions back to his food and friends. When everyone had eaten as much as they possibly could, the remains of the food faded from the plates and they were clean enough to act as mirrors once more. A moment later deserts popped up, and Tom helped himself to some ice cream. The talk between the first years turned toward their families, a subject Tom was never really comfortable with.

"I'm a pure blood, of course. This is the house that seems to pride itself on that after all. Of course there are many of mixed or muggle heritage in this house either way," Corvus was saying, looking at the array of desserts.

"Same. My cousins are all squibs, so my mother and father were worried I might turn out to be one. Looks like I've turned alright though," Tyrion informed.

"I'm a bit mixed myself. Me parents are both squibs, ones a half blood, and the other pure. So I'm not sure if that makes me closer to a muggleborn or 3 quarters," Edward joined in.

"What about you, Tom?" Corvus asked, a friendly grin on his face.

"I'm not entirely sure. I had thought that I was a muggle my whole life—didn't even know that there was magic, actually. Not until last December," Tom began, looking down at his plate momentarily before looking back up. "But Dumbledore came and told me I was a wizard, and that my mum had been a pureblood squib. Didn't know about my dad, though."

"What, you mean you didn't know your Mother?" Tyrion asked, looking a bit confused. "Or that she just didn't tell you?"

"I'm an orphan," he replied shortly before stuffing his mouth full of vanilla ice cream. Artemus shifted and suddenly Tyrion was grabbing his leg in pain, and that made Tom feel a little better.

* * *

**Author's note: Thanks for reading, if you are reading. I know there aren't many of you reading this so far, but I won't get too discouraged. I'm writing this for my own pleasure. Review if you want. Thank you. **

Gezelligheid: The comfort or coziness of being at home or with friends. Togetherness.


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